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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26278285">Roadblock</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/snalemail/pseuds/snalemail'>snalemail</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drinking, Fluff, Glenn the mechanic, Holst the urban planner, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Hilda/Edelgard, Modern AU, Strangers to Lovers, Ultra Rarepair Big Bang (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), super brief Felix/Claude mention</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:29:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26278285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/snalemail/pseuds/snalemail</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Traveling into Fhirdiad, Holst's car breaks down on the highway. He has to give a major presentation in two days and feeling stressed-out until he meets the mechanic who'll be working on his car -- Glenn.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Glenn Fraldarius/Holst Goneril</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>2020 Ultra Rarepair Big Bang</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Roadblock</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I humbly offer you Glenn/Holst for the Ultra Rarepair Big Bang! </p><p>A HUGE thank you to <a href="https://twitter.com/bingostaygods">Azure</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/possiblevoid">Cyrus</a> for the beta and being the best cheerleaders in the world.</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/fullashtrayer/status/1301871510429282306/photo/1">Art! Art! Art!</a><br/>Check out shili's FANTASTIC art for the fic! It's the perfect cover for my very silly story. It was a pleasure to work with you ^^</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The steady, dull vibrations of Highway 751 prompt Holst to take a swig from his third venti cold brew of the day. At least his engine is loud, keeping him awake and alert. His cup holder is full of paper cups and the balled-up wrappers of a few protein bars he found at a gas station a few exits back. Another hour or two will <em> finally </em> get him into Fhirdiad, completing his six-hour journey from Derdriu. Why Holst didn’t take a plane was beyond his coworkers’ imaginations. </p><p><em> I just think the open road would be a nice change of pace, ya know? </em> Holst had smiled easily from his desk. <em> And it’s technically cheaper than flying, so you all should actually be thanking me. </em></p><p>His phone vibrates with a call, interrupting his road trip playlist, which consists of ABBA, Carly Rae Jepsen, and TWICE’s entire catalog. The caller ID reads “THE BOSS” in all caps. He quickly answers the call on speakerphone. </p><p>“Afternoon, sir,” Holst chirps, trying to speak over his loud engine. His grip tightens on the steering wheel, but his posture remains at ease. </p><p>It isn’t that Nader is intimidating, far from it. They regularly take lunch together and collaborate daily. He is the esteemed director of urban planning at Failnaught Consulting, and Holst, the lead project coordinator under Nader’s leadership, is his mentee. As urban planners, they have lofty goals to execute regional developments in and around Derdriu — all to increase the public welfare of its growing population.</p><p>That’s why Holst finds himself traveling to an urban planning conference in Fhirdiad. It offers its attendees networking opportunities, chances to speak with vendors, and attend workshops with accomplished, nationally-recognized urban planners. </p><p><em> Don’t forget the free drinks and food </em>, Holst had helpfully added when Nader first presented the idea. </p><p>What makes his hands sweat is knowing he’ll be presenting in front of 300 or so people on a panel regarding urban development. Failnaught Consulting is considered the premier firm in northeast Fódlan often in the spotlight for their governmental contracts. Recently, they had successfully transformed an old, five-mile high-line railroad into a public garden and park. It was well-received by government officials and the public, landing Holst the chance to talk about it in front of colleagues. But Holst would rather staple together thousands of contract agreements meant for interns than formally speak in front of a crowd. Talking and bullshitting your way through conversation is easy, even in larger groups — except when it’s meant to be serious. </p><p>Holst is not serious. </p><p>“Hello, Holst,” Nader’s voice laughs on the other end of the line. “All well on your ‘road trip’?” </p><p>“Good as gold,” he smiles lazily. “I’m starting to see signs for Fhirdiad, so I’ll be ordering room service in no time.” </p><p>“Room service? Why not go to that bar you were so excited about last week? What was the name…”</p><p>“Dark Spikes,” Holst chimes in. “I’d prefer not to look like a loser by myself at a fancy bar, so I’ll wait until the rest of the crew arrives in a few days. Besides, I’ve gotta prep for that presentation.” </p><p>Mentioning it makes his stomach churn. </p><p>“Responsible as ever, Holst!” Nader’s voice booms in delight over the phone. “If you’d like to go over it before then, you know my number. You have a certain… presence about you, so I don’t see an issue with you holding the audience’s attention.” </p><p>Holst rolls his eyes at the back-handed praise. He certainly doesn’t <em> look </em>like a traditional cut-and-dry manager, which makes him stand out all the more when clients come to visit: Clean-shaven; short, curly pink hair; gold piercings on his nose and ears; and a preppy wardrobe that embraces patterns and bright colors. His sister Hilda would send him to an early grave if she ever found him wearing drab business clothes. Having a sister who’s a fashion designer has its perks; she made the trim pink floral button-up he wears now, along with a few other shirts tucked away in his leather duffel bag.</p><p>“Sure, sure,” Holst hums, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’ll let you know if I run into anything.” </p><p>“Make us proud, Holst!” </p><p>The call ends and Holst exhales. Everything will be fine. Driving to Fhirdiad two days before the conference offers ample time to prepare and practice. Granted it’s at his expense, but it seems worth it in the long run. If it goes well, it could secure a future promotion or a raise. The thought of it makes Holst chuckle to himself. He isn’t very driven to be a corporate ladder-climber, but the thought of failure looms over him like rumbling thunder...</p><p>Kind of similar to how his engine sounds right now.</p><p>Suddenly, Holst loses all power behind the gas pedal. Even pushing it down to the floor, there’s nothing. The dim light of the time displayed on the stereo is off. Traffic is mild, so it only takes some brief maneuvering to ease into the road’s shoulder as he flashes the car’s emergency lights. The engine makes the most goddess-awful noises as the car decelerates -- metal clanging around other pieces of metal, pieces breaking and hitting the undercarriage. It takes several minutes, mostly Holst holding his breath and chewing his bottom lip, to safely guide the car along the shoulder until it comes to a complete stop. He sums it up to a miracle that there were no other cars or trucks on his path. Unbuckling the seatbelt, Holst slumps in his seat, taking a moment to gather himself before grabbing his phone.</p><p>He’s familiar with car trouble, especially with his own. Holst searches for nearby tow trucks in the area; it’s another miracle that he isn’t stuck in the middle of nowhere. Being within Fhirdiad’s city limits, there’s ample choice. It takes about five minutes for Holst to find one, Eisner Towing, 4.8 stars and 300+ reviews. A seven-minute phone call later, Holst is waiting on a tow truck estimated to arrive in about twenty minutes. He reaches out to Nader and Hilda and lets them know what’s happened. Then, Holst idly digs into more of the towing company’s reviews — a favorite pastime, next to people watching — as a way to undercut the anxiety building in his chest. He makes a mental note to remind Hilda about being early to things just in case, you know, your shitty car stops working.</p><p>Feeling stuffy, Holst steps out of his car. Summer is surprisingly mild here. The afternoon sun beats down on the city, but a cool breeze makes the heat bearable. He pockets his cufflinks and rolls his sleeves up as he walks over to lean against the car’s trunk. A trail of metal shards and screws mark his passage from the road over to the shoulder. </p><p><em> That can’t be good. </em> </p><p>He turns his attention back to the reviews, ignoring the problem.</p><p>Most of what’s written is nice and helpful, which is not nearly as fun. There are a few bad ones though -- a talkative driver with bad jokes; arriving past the estimated time someone was given; all pretty minimal grievances. Holst opens his email instead, responding to a few messages regarding the presentation and last-minute information his promising college intern, Ignatz Victor, had sent over. </p><p>
  <em> Good luck, boss! You’ll be great!  </em>
</p><p> Holst runs a few fingers through his hair, doing his best not to pull when he notices a tow truck slow down ahead. As it passes by, he reads “Eisner Towing” in clean, bold lettering and pulls into the shoulder. A short, stocky man with combed-back brown hair piles out of the truck and cheerfully calls out to him. </p><p>“Mr. Goneril, hello! The name’s Alois, and I’ll be helping you out today.”</p><p>He strides over with a smile and gives Holst a firm handshake. </p><p>“Call me Holst, and thanks a lot. I’ve gotta say, you’re a lifesaver.” </p><p>“More than happy to help! No one really expects these sorts of things to happen, but that’s why I’m here with a service that will <em> tow </em>you away!” </p><p>Alois bursts into laughter and Holst wonders if this person might be the talkative driver with bad jokes.</p><p>“I bet you’re quite the charmer,” he titters, shaking his head with an exhausted smile. “Let me grab my stuff and I’ll get out of your way.” </p><p>Alois gives him a toothy grin before walking back to the truck, powering up the towing machine and sorting through the chains and hooks. <em> At least he seems to know what he’s doing </em>, Holst observes as he grabs his leather bag. He gives Alois a half-salute as he walks by, the noise of the truck’s engine and towing machine too loud to shout over. Stepping up inside the truck is more of a production than Holst anticipates. The first step is nearly a foot or two off the ground. He throws the leather bag into the seat and carefully hoists himself up, doing his best not to tear his fitted khaki trousers. </p><p>After a solid minute of finding the best angle and making a second attempt, he finally makes it inside the rumbling truck — no tears to be found. Holst can see his car being lifted and dragged onto the trailer. It’s a shame it seemed fine on the outside only to be a disaster under the hood. He might not have taken the best care of his car, but it’s survived more than 20 years at this point. If anything, it’s a fighter. The idea of buying a new car right now is something he shoves out of the way. </p><p>Holst replies to another email by the time Alois climbs into the truck with a huge smile. </p><p>“Alright, Holst! The car’s all settled in the back, and we’re ready to rumble. Any idea for a shop?” </p><p>“I’m not from around here, so I can’t say I know any good places nearby. I can look-“ Holst looks down to his phone, but Alois interjects. </p><p>“Oh, then I know just the place! The shop’s called Aegis Auto, probably about a ten-minute drive away, just a mile or two off the highway.” </p><p>Holst quickly types in the shop’s name in his internet browser, and initial signs aren’t great. </p><p><em> Only three reviews and 3.5 stars. </em>  </p><p>Holst laughs nervously.“They a small operation or something? I can’t find their website or anything.” </p><p>“It’s just a father and his two sons, so yeah, they’re a pretty small garage. But! They’re the best-kept secret in town. They can fix anything! Lots of people normally have a preference for bigger name places, but since you look clueless, I recommend this one!” </p><p>One of the three reviews describes the two younger mechanics as “brooding assholes.”</p><p>If they’re a smaller, lesser-known shop to the public, Holst figures his car might get looked at faster. The quicker this goes, the less of a hiccup this mess is. And besides, Holst can work with brooding assholes. Holst has dealt with a caffeine-deprived accounting intern Hubert Vestra; he can cope with these two.</p><p>“Sure, why not?” </p><p>Holst puts away his phone and looks out to the Fhirdiad skyline as Alois merges slowly back onto the highway and calls Aegis Auto. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The shop itself is quaint, Holst thinks as they pull into the parking lot. It’s nothing special to look at compared to other places he’s seen. There are only three garages for its patrons, but, in all honesty, it just looks <em> dead </em>. It doesn’t seem like there’s an air-conditioned reception area for customers to wait in, no obnoxious signs or flags promising discounted tires or tune-ups. It’s just… a garage on the side of the road. Before thinking he’s made a mistake, Alois gives two quick honks as he pulls in.</p><p>“You’ll be in great hands here, I can guarantee it,” he announces out of nowhere. “Like I said, the two younger mechanics are a little rough around the edges, but I tell ya, they’re good at what they do. Oh! Now that I think about it, you might be around the same age as the oldest! That’s pretty cool, right?” </p><p>Right, so among the two brooding assholes, there’s someone he might have at least <em> one </em> thing in common with. Still not the greatest odds, but who knows? Maybe there’s a gem buried down in the asshole-ry. Even if there isn’t, Holst won’t be here long enough for it to matter. </p><p>“Pretty cool,” Holst repeats with less enthusiasm, as he looks ahead to two figures with their backs turned inside the garage. The shorter of the two walks back deeper into the shop while the taller walks toward the truck holding a cup of coffee. Alois excitedly rolls the window down and has to shout over the idle engine. </p><p>“Hey, buddy! Thanks again for letting me come drop this off.”</p><p>It’s hard to make out the words from the other man; his voice is softer and doesn’t carry as well as Alois’. This must be the owner of the operation. He’s older, wrinkles creasing his brow and eyes, with grey streaks peppered in his dark hair. The man points to the garage at the end and smiles before taking a sip of his coffee. </p><p>“Alrighty, so I’ll just back this bad boy up…” </p><p>Alois narrates the two-minute process of backing up the tow truck. If this were under different circumstances, Holst wouldn’t feel so drained by the whole ordeal. The driver is easy to talk to -- a delight even -- but the stress of the presentation is starting to coil up inside his chest again. A setback like this should be part of the adventure, not a roadblock that might ruin someone’s expectations of him. But could a lost hour or two be that bad?</p><p>The truck door suddenly slams shut, rattling him back to reality. Taking his bags, Holst slings them over his shoulder as he carefully maneuvers himself back down and out of the truck and onto the faded, and cracked asphalt.  </p><p>Holst takes one last look at himself on his phone’s selfie mode before joining Alois on the other side. He tousles his curly pink hair and opts to keep his sunglasses on, to at least make an attempt at hiding the stress in his eyes, before walking around the truck. </p><p>Alois is chatting away to the older man as a younger one walks up. Holst doesn’t need a second look to know this is the eldest son and mechanic. He’s shorter than his father but with long black hair, tied up in a messy approximation of a ponytail, oil smudges on his face, faded blue overalls tucked into black boots, all wrapped up in an unnerving scowl that could tear someone in two. Something about the mechanic’s light blue eyes doesn’t quite match the rest of him.</p><p>
  <em> He’s hot. </em>
</p><p>“Ah! Rodrigue, this is the poor car’s owner, Holst. I told him how you all would get it fixed up in a jiffy.” </p><p>Turning away from the mechanic, Holst switches modes, quickly sporting his client-winning smile as he offers his hand.</p><p>“Nice meeting you, Rodrigue. I really appreciate you looking at it on such short notice. I’ve gotta say, you’re doing me a huge favor.” </p><p>“Nice to meet you, Holst,” he smiles, taking Holst’s hand in a firm handshake. “We’ll do what we can to get you back on the road in no time. Alois mentioned you would be here for a few days?” </p><p>“Ideally, yes,” Holst laughs easily. “I planned to leave this coming Sunday, but I can stick around if need be. I’m pretty flexible.” </p><p>He could try to work remotely, but at least by then, the conference would be over. Nader did mention he could take some time off after the work he’s put in for this damn conference...</p><p>Rodrigue seems content with his answer and nods before being pulled away by Alois to help get the car back into the garage. There’s an even grumpier-looking mechanic with his arms crossed back toward the shop -- the younger son probably, waiting impatiently for things to keep moving. </p><p>“What did you do to it?” </p><p>The mechanic beside him asks this point-blank, tone teetering on the accusatory. He wipes his hands and fingers with a rag, avoiding eye contact. </p><p>“What makes you think I did something?” Holst smiles cheerily, trying his best to seem charming. “I was just driving on Highway 751 when the car died. If anything, it seems like the car did something to me, don’t you think?” </p><p>The man doesn’t say anything. He shoves the rag into his back pocket with a huff.  </p><p>“You hardly ever get your car serviced. No wonder.” </p><p>Holst is taken aback by the (confirmed!) accusatory tone.</p><p>“Excuse me?” </p><p>“When you take your car to get looked at,” the man deadpans. “Regular tune-ups? Oil changes? Ring any bells?”</p><p>“I mean… yeah, it does, but why are you suggesting that?” </p><p>Why does it already feel the conversation is developing into an argument? This must be the classic Aegis Auto charm everyone’s raving about.</p><p>“Cars hardly ever just ‘die on the road,’” the other mumbles. “Which makes me think you don’t ever get your car checked. Your neglect is probably what made the engine bust.” </p><p>Holst’s mouth twists, trying to hide his amusement, but it fails miserably. He laughs out loud. The nerve of this guy is almost unreal. </p><p>“Anything else you want to write me up for, sir?” Holst manages to say as the ripples of laughter start to subside. “I don’t even know your name and somehow you’re on my case about this.” </p><p>The mechanic’s lips purse together into a fine line. </p><p>“It’s Glenn. I’m not on your case, just trying to figure out what happened.” </p><p>“Well, Glenn,” he says, surprised by how much he likes how the name sounds. Ugh, <em> shit </em>. “Let’s restart the conversation here.” Holst clears his throat for good measure. “Hi, my name’s Holst, and my car died out on the highway. After it lost power, there were awful scraping sounds, and I thought the bottom of the car had been torn off.” </p><p>Glenn stares back at Holst, his head slightly tilted, an expression of pure confusion on his face. He eventually breaks out of an almost trance-like state to reply. </p><p>“Interesting.” </p><p>Holst waits, looking at Glenn expectantly. There had to be more to that, right? Apparently not. Glenn walks away toward Rodrigue and Alois back at the shop. Holst’s left standing alone in the parking lot, dumbfounded. </p><p>What is with this guy? Was it something he said? Was it just for existing? </p><p>Unsure, Holst looks at his phone nervously before attempting to casually walk over to the group. Alois and the other mechanic are pushing his car into the garage as Glenn speaks with his father. Rodrigue perks his head up and grins as Holst approaches.</p><p>“I’ve assigned Glenn to work on your car over the next several days. He’s the fastest -- dare I say the sharpest -- one here at the shop, so he should be a major asset.” He places a prideful hand on his son’s shoulder and Glenn visibly flinches from the embarrassment. Truthfully, he doesn’t look thrilled about the arrangement, either. </p><p>“Looks like I’ll be in good hands then.” It’s impossible for Holst to hide his satisfied smirk. Despite the rude introduction, Holst still finds himself wanting to know more about him. It’s a longshot, but trying never hurts anyone. </p><p>“Whatever,” Glenn huffs. His father’s hand falls back to his side as he storms into the garage. </p><p>Rodrigue sighs and looks to Holst with a weary smile. </p><p>“Please forgive him. It can take him some time to warm up, but I promise he’s a good one.” </p><p>It’s strange, his father offering advice about his son, but also somewhat reassuring, in an awkward, endearing way. Holst readjusts his grip on his bags and nods. </p><p>“I appreciate it. I’ve worked with people like him before, so it’s nothing new to me.”</p><p>Rodrigue chuckles to himself. </p><p>“I’m happy to hear it.” He points over back to the garage. “Glenn is probably starting to look over your car. You’re free to stay here at the garage, or I can order you a car to take you to wherever you’re staying?”</p><p>The day is already off the rails; may as well keep it going. At least there’s someone here that’s making it worth his while. </p><p>“I’ll stay here for a bit before I head back to my hotel. I can call a rideshare, so don’t you worry another blink over me.” Holst says his thanks again and turns to say goodbye to Alois before walking toward the open garage at the end. A large, stenciled “1” is worn into the grey concrete of the shop, partially obscured by his car. Glenn finishes propping up the hood and turns, finding Holst staring. He frowns.</p><p>“Got anything better to do?” </p><p>“Not really, no.” Holst smiles before walking inside the stall, next to Glenn. He crosses his arms and looks inside. What he sees next strikes him as odd.  Everything looks surprisingly intact. “So I thought this would be, like, a the-car-is-falling-apart situation, but I don’t see anything wrong with it. Does that mean it’ll be fixed up pretty quick?”</p><p>Holst wasn’t trying to be funny, yet Glenn throws his head back and laughs at him. It seems mean-spirited, but Glenn’s <em> smile </em>, the way it spreads over his face all at once as his nose crinkles up, makes Holst feel breathless.</p><p>“That’s rich. That doesn’t mean shit.” </p><p>The mechanic reaches down under the hood and starts to tinker around, pulling and grabbing at various parts. Holst watches the way his muscles expand and contract as he works. Glenn’s not nearly as built as someone who goes out of their way to lift weights at the gym every day like Holst does, but they’re fine-tuned, lean muscles from his time spent in the shop. Holst can see it in the way Glenn’s fingers latch onto stubbornly tight components with all the grace of some sort of artist. </p><p>“-even listening to me?” </p><p>Holst rises from his daze and notices Glenn scowling. </p><p>“… No. Sorry.” </p><p>Glenn drops his head, huffing as a few strands of inky blue hair fall from his hair tie. He ducks out and reaches for the towel shoved in his back pocket to wipe the grime off his hands. It looks more like he’s trying to wring the poor piece of cloth. </p><p>“I <em> said </em>I think your timing belt busted. I’ll have to remove the engine and take it apart to see, but all signs point to that.” </p><p>“Oh, cool.” Holst nods his head in agreement as if he knows what Glenn’s talking about. Yeah, bullshitting isn’t the best way to go about this. “So is the timing belt, like, something pretty important?” </p><p>“It helps the engine do its job so, yeah, I’d say it’s pretty important.” Glenn walks over to find what looks like a miniature crane on wheels. “I’ll get it out before closing, but I’ll look into it more in the morning.”</p><p>“Sweet! So that means you can fix it?” </p><p>“No. It means I’ll look at it and see what I can do. We’ll call you when I know the next steps but until then you can leave.”</p><p>Glenn looks over his shoulder, emphasizing the “leave,” but Holst doesn’t want to.</p><p>“Aw, but you don’t have my number. How am I supposed to know when you’re calling me?” </p><p>The mechanic stops adjusting the crane and spins his head around, looking at Holst with a fierce red to his cheeks.</p><p>“We… have it on file.” </p><p>Holst knows that’s bullshit.</p><p>“Afraid not. I don’t remember giving any of you my contact info.” Holst shakes his head and reaches into one of his bags, pulling out a crisp business card. He walks over and hands it to Glenn. “For you. Although I’ll be back in the morning.” </p><p>He didn’t even have to think about it. Holst wants to be here, even if it means multitasking on his work. Being here would be better than any stuffy coffee shop or shared working space because of this anomaly of a man standing with his eyes narrowed at Holst.</p><p>“We don’t have wifi here,” he bites.</p><p>Holst’s heart drops until his savior walks back into the shop.</p><p>“What do you mean, Glenn? I thought that’s what that small black box is for… The one in my office?” Rodrigue returns from the break room with another cup of coffee, a face full of worry. “The gentleman who installed it said it would reach everywhere in the shop. Is this not the case? I would hate to bring him out here again and have to fool with it.” </p><p>“No, Glenn’s just lying,” Felix helpfully chimes in from the adjacent stall. He’s been working so quietly that Holst had forgotten he was still there. Regardless, the odds are in his favor now, judging by Glenn’s outward irritation.</p><p>“Just don’t get in my way,” Glenn mumbles. As he starts to walk away, something compels him to stop and speak again curtly. “And bring me coffee.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“I don’t know, Hils,” Holst says on speakerphone as he tosses a tater-tot in his mouth. “I wish I could make you understand how <em> gorgeous </em> this guy was.”</p><p>“<em> I’m taking your word for it, for real, but you seriously can’t expect anything else from an asshole like him, right? Like, sure, he’s hot and everything, but it’s like this guy has a major chip on his shoulder and wants the whole world to know about it! </em>”</p><p>Holst wants to tell her she’s got it all wrong, that he could tell by their first meeting that Glenn wasn’t just some bad boy mechanic with an attitude. He saw it himself, in the way Glenn laughed at him for saying something ignorant about his car or how his face lit up red when his brother realized what was going on. There was more going on underneath that scowl of his.</p><p>
  <em> But what if she’s right? </em>
</p><p>“I know, I know. I’ll keep it in mind. It’s not like I’m going to go marry the guy tomorrow if it goes well.” Holst moves his room service tray away so he can bring his laptop back over. “Besides, I’m leaving in a few days, so it’ll probably be nothing.”</p><p>He doesn’t want to believe it, though. The romantic inside him wants to fall head over heels for this guy he’s just met, whisk him away from his job to live an easy life on the beach. Since getting to the hotel, Holst’s brain has been buzzing with what might happen tomorrow. That’s why he called his sister, hoping she might be able to put things into perspective. </p><p>“<em> Exactly! Just… don’t get too into it, alright? Edie, you got anything for this hopeless dope? </em>” </p><p>“First off, rude. Second-” Holst quickly clears his throat to sound more deep and demure. “-good evening to you, Ms. Hresvelg. A pleasure to be in your company this fine eve.” </p><p>“<em> Formalities are never required, Goneril. We’ve been over this </em>,” Edelgard chides. Holst can picture her now, pinching the bridge of her nose in exhaustion while Hilda rolls her eyes.</p><p>Over the two years she and Hilda have been together, Holst has been able to develop a small friendship with her — enough to satisfy family dinners or holidays together at least. They both come from wealthy families, but hers is just… stuffier.  </p><p>“You’re easy to tease, what can I say?” Holst smiles, tapping away at his computer. “So, what kind of advice do you have for me, a hopeless dope?”</p><p>He can hear Hilda snort. </p><p>“<em> Well, frankly, I don’t wish to make any assumptions about someone prior to meeting them. Do you know what his family is like? Does their name hold any weight in Fhirdiad? I could always look into him if I spoke with-“  </em></p><p>“<em> Ediiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie, that’s not the point,” </em> Hilda interrupts. “ <em> You’re supposed to tell him it’s a bad idea to go for an asshole.”  </em></p><p>
  <em> “I must reiterate, again, that I don’t wish to make any assumptions. Holst seems capable enough of making his own decisions.”  </em>
</p><p>Holst wants to shout it from the rooftops: Edelgard Hresvelg thinks I’m “capable of making my own decision.” </p><p>“<em> Bold of you to assume that,” </em> Hilda sighs. <em> “Holst, seriously, I’ve seen you get your heart broken like five million times now. Take it easy, alright? Keep me in the loop. I think our take-out is here.” </em></p><p>“You got it. Later, love ya.”</p><p>“<em> Love you too- Hi there! Yes, thanks- </em>“</p><p>Holst ends the call before Hilda inevitably forgets to hang up. It was nice being able to uncoil some of the tension in his chest. His sister, no matter what, always knows how to bring Holst back to the present. One of their legendary brother/sister spa outings sounds nice right about now, but there’s work to do before he can call it a night. He puts in a productive few hours of work before closing his laptop and collapsing on the plush bed. With as much precision as he can manage, Holst gropes for the lamp’s switch and shuts off the lights. The weariness of the day’s events makes sleep come quicker than usual, yet there are fragments of Glenn that appear and disappear as he drifts off. </p><p>The morning alarm comes quicker than he anticipates, but it’s not entirely unwelcome. Holst doesn’t hit the snooze as he brings the phone up to his bleary eyes. The clock reads 6:02 a.m. Plenty of time to fit in a workout at the downstairs gym, shower, get ready, and grab coffee before spending the day at the shop. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline that drives Holst to get out of bed and start his day with extra pep. </p><p>Unfortunately, after getting out of the shower, Holst realizes he didn’t pack a “spend-the-day-at-an-auto-shop” outfit. He’s staring at his hotel closet, reviewing the shirts and slacks available to him. It needs to be a balance of practical but still very <em> Holst </em>. He tries on a few options, not feeling satisfied, until deciding on a tucked-in, lightweight pink floral button-up with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows (undoing an extra button to be on the safe side), trim khaki trousers with a belt, brown lace-up boots, and small golden hoops. Doing a once-over in the mirror, Holst adds the pièce de résistance: a subtle, bubblegum pink gloss. It’s just enough to give his lips a sheen in the light. </p><p>Still not the most practical look, but it’s enough to make it work. Holst slips his laptop, notebook, and charger into his leather bag before leaving for the lobby. After a minute or two of browsing on his phone, he manages to find a nearby coffee shop within a short walking distance from the hotel. It looks cozy, like somewhere he’d spend a day getting work done by contrast to where he’s actually going. He feels a small panic approaching the counter when he realizes Glenn never said what he wanted. What kind of coffee guy is he? If you want to go by looks, he probably takes it black. It’s better to play it safe because, for all Holst knows, he probably loves espresso or mocha. Two coffees (one black with extra cream and sugar on the side, the other a large cold brew) later, the rideshare arrives and whisks him away to Aegis Auto. He checks himself in the phone's camera one last time as they pull into the parking lot. Each of the three garage doors is open to take advantage of the cool and clear morning. Holst thanks the driver and takes a deep breath before stepping outside, whistling a chipper tune as he approaches. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Rodrigue notices him first, giving a friendly wave before returning to his work. The shop is fairly quiet, save for the hum of machinery and the radio Glenn's adjusting as Holst approaches. Much like yesterday, he’s wearing a different faded set of overalls with his boots. This time, his hair is tightly pulled back in a high ponytail, showing off just how slender his neck is in profile. </p><p>“Coffee delivery,” Holst speaks up first. “Wasn’t sure how you took your coffee so there’s some spare cream and sugar in here.” </p><p>Slightly startled, Glenn turns and looks him over. That beautiful shade of red brushes over his face once again, nearly making Holst melt. To his right, he spies Felix bob his head up from under a car hood and shoot Glenn a knowing look before walking away to the other stall. Was there some kind of arrangement discussed before he came? Glenn rolls his eyes and strides over quickly.</p><p>“Thanks,” he mumbles, taking the coffee and paper bag. “Didn’t think you’d do it.”</p><p>
  <em> Probably didn’t expect me to actually come either. </em>
</p><p>“Well, I mean, I’ve gotta do my best for the guy that’s trying to do me a solid on such short notice!” </p><p>“You mean doing my job?” Glenn walks over to his workbench and sets to mixing in a lump of sugar and two creams. “You aren’t the first person to need their car fixed quickly. Oh-”</p><p>He leaves the coffee abruptly and walks over to the corner. The sound of hard plastic scraping against smooth concrete screeches through the shop as Glenn slides over a dusty white lawn chair. From the further stall, Holst can hear Felix yell.<br/>
<br/>
“ <b>What the </b> <b> <em>hell</em> </b> <b>, Glenn? Are you trying to burst my damn eardrums?!</b> ”</p><p>“Piss off and get back to work,” Glenn responds easily while he dusts off the chair with a rag. “Don’t want to keep Claude waiting.”<br/>
<br/>
With a wild look in his eyes, Felix flips his brother off and turns back to the silver Prius. No family is alike by any means, but Holst can hardly tell if they’re both earnest in their jabs. </p><p>“Your brother seems… nice.” </p><p>“The opposite, actually,” Glenn mumbles, gesturing to the chair for Holst. “But I was a hot-head when I was his age too. He’ll grow out of it. Probably when he goes off to college next year.”</p><p>A light goes off in Holst’s mind -- Felix is the same age as Hilda. Something in common! <em> Finally. </em></p><p>“You? A hot-head? I can hardly imagine it,” Holst drawls, making sure he lands a wink before settling into the chair. It’s not quite a plush seat at a coffee shop, but it’ll do. The view’s worth it: Glenn doing his best to suppress another eye roll while he takes a drink of coffee and puts on a pair of thick work gloves. Holst takes this as an opportunity to continue, “I can’t say my sister and I were ever like that growing up, or even now. I love giving her a hard time, but we’re pretty close.” </p><p> </p><p>“What’s she like?” Glenn takes a final swig of coffee before walking over to the engine. “Don’t tell me she’s exactly like you.”<br/>
<br/>
His back is turned but Holst can hear the smile. In truth, it catches him off guard. Glenn didn’t seem the type to want anything to do with small talk. Sitting on a stool, he wheels over the crane contraption with the engine and sets to work.<br/>
<br/>
“Maaaybe,” Holst drawls, leaning down to grab his laptop from his bag. “When I was still living at home, our favorite weekend ritual was sleeping in until about 11:30 a.m. and then going to our favorite diner for brunch. Throw in some idle shopping and coffee, and then you have the perfect Goneril sibling cocktail.”</p><p>Glenn stops working and snorts into his arm, accidentally smearing some grease on his cheek.</p><p>“Flames, it's worse than I thought,” he titters. “How did you even get a job if you have that kind of lazy attitude?” </p><p>Holst scoffs, crossing his leg over the other, as he waits for the laptop to boot up. </p><p>“Going beyond people’s expectations of me <em> apparently </em>. I get shit done, you know! I workout, show up early to work… Hilda literally makes most of my clothes. She’s a super talented fashion designer. We aren’t completely lazy, we just have to find the right rhythm. Password?”</p><p>Glenn is startled from listening when he turns to look at Holst in confusion.<br/>
<br/>
“Pass- Oh, your laptop. Take a wild guess,” he grins reaching for a wrench.<br/>
<br/>
“Please don’t tell me it’s just ‘AegisAuto.’”<br/>
<br/>
“Warmer.”<br/>
<br/>
Holst pauses and bounces his leg in thought.<br/>
<br/>
“‘AegisAuto’...1?”<br/>
<br/>
Glenn makes a noise of approval. “And my father wonders why wifi gets slow when the ‘local youths’ are here hanging around outside. We haven’t told him yet.”</p><p>Holst smiles and laughs out loud. Poor Rodrigue -- he really is the embodiment of patience and lack of awareness. He enters the password and lo-and-behold, it’s that simple. The usual stream of notifications start to flood in. He sees Nader’s name a few times and Judith from client relations; Ignatz has even sent over some helpful outlines from previous presentation run-throughs. He owes him one. </p><p>“Is it more fun to keep your dad in the dark?” Holst asks, multitasking with mundane replies to emails. (<em> Yes, I have everything I need for tomorrow </em> ; <em> no, thank you, I’m currently somewhere with bad service so it’s hard to chat </em>).</p><p>“Sometimes, if it’s over something trivial like the wifi,” Glenn muses, as he places a few bolts on a nearby bench. “It’s just another thing my brother and I can do together. Nothing like making clothes for each other though.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t make clothes!” He lifts the laptop from his lap and holds his arms out to the side. “But Hilda made these trousers and shirt herself. She wants to launch a more official business once she’s out of school. Right now, it’s just a small online shop, so I’m basically her walking billboard.” </p><p>Glenn looks over. Holst can feel the heaviness of his gaze. It trails from head to toe, not in scrutiny but real curiosity.<br/>
<br/>
“You look good,” he says under his breath before snapping his head back to the engine. “The clothes, I mean. They look good. She does good work.”<br/>
<br/>
A large bolt falls to the floor and rolls over to Holst’s boot. Glenn ignores it, feigning ignorance of its existence as he continues to take apart the engine.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll let her know someone appreciates it.” Holst reaches down, picks the bolt up, and offers it to Glenn. “I think you look pretty good too. The overalls and oil stains are a nice touch.” </p><p>There’s a moment of pure fear on Glenn’s face, but it quickly transforms into embarrassment.<br/>
<br/>
“Shut up,” he mumbles. Thinking he might just swipe it from his hand, Glenn does the opposite. He lets his fingers brush against Holst’s when he takes it away gently from his grasp.<br/>
<br/>
“I wasn’t the one who got distracted.”</p><p>“Not at all.” Glenn takes a deep breath and exhales through his nostrils, narrowing his focus on the engine.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the day looks a lot like how it first started. Small talk, a few laughs, then working in silence, save for the pop-up conversations and jabs. Holst orders lunch so they can at least eat as they both work. The occasional extended glances are nice, too.</p><p>It’s late in the afternoon when Glenn starts looking more frustrated, sighing deeply every five minutes or so, until he stops working completely, taking his gloves off. Taking his cue, Holst shuts his laptop and looks to Glenn with a knowing grin.<br/>
<br/>
“So I take it that all the huffing means this is going to be the easiest thing you’ve ever fixed, right?”<br/>
<br/>
Glenn doesn’t laugh.</p><p>“More like I wasted your day.” He stares at the engine in disgust. “I knew that if it was a timing belt issue, your car was as good as totalled, but I wanted to at least see. I thought I could figure out a solution, but that was just idiotic. You can’t just fix something like this. There are cracks everywhere I look.”<br/>
<br/>
He pokes a finger at a few sections in the engine and sighs.<br/>
<br/>
“Either you put down a load of cash for a brand new engine on a car that’s decades old, or you total it and just get another used car-”<br/>
<br/>
Glenn must see Holst open his mouth with a question because he’s already interrupting.<br/>
<br/>
“-And before you ask, the latter is cheaper. It’s not worth dropping that much cash on a car that’ll probably have another issue in the next year.”</p><p>“Wasn’t my question, but that’s definitely good to know,” Holst says, moving to the edge of the seat. “I want to know why you think you wasted my day? I don’t feel that way at all. I mean, you kind of gave away my car’s fate, like, an hour ago.”<br/>
<br/>
“You could’ve been out of here and finding a car rental by midday. That’s almost an entire half-day wasted.” </p><p>“Well, yeah, I could have, but I also have been able to get work done here-” He gestures to his laptop. “-And I was actually having a nice time with you.” </p><p>For the past month, including the long drive here, Holst has been worried sick over this damn presentation and conference. What he first thought would be a major inconvenience has instead turned into something surprisingly nice. He delights in whatever unexpected things might happen. Working at Failnaught Consulting has certainly played a part in Holst slipping into monotony and general corporate bullshit, but his time here with Glenn has been more than wonderful. </p><p>“Yeah, it was… nice,” Glenn manages. “I can, um, send you some places nearby you can rent a car. I have your number.”</p><p>“Oh! Right, you do,” Holst laughs. “I’d appreciate it. I’ll probably pick something up before I head out on Monday, so in the meantime I’ll just rideshare around the city. I mean, it’s just going from the hotel to the conference building.”<br/>
<br/>
That’s not entirely true. Holst <em> wants </em> to see Glenn again after the conference. He only just needs to figure out a way to ask...but Glenn beats him to it.<br/>
<br/>
“Would you want to grab some dinner tonight?” He’s at his workbench wiping his hands off with his rag. He still hasn’t noticed the smudge on his face from earlier, but that doesn’t matter right now because Holst’s night, and probably life, just got exponentially better.</p><p>“Yeah,” Holst’s voice wavers, a blush spreading along his face. “I’d like that.”<br/>
<br/>
“What?” Glenn smirks now, sporting his own blush. “Did I make <em> you </em> flustered?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh please, I was just about to ask you out, too,” Holst chides. “You just surprised me.” </p><p>“Mhmm,” Glenn hums, turning back to his bench and setting tools aside. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”<br/>
<br/>
Holst adds it to his calendar -- as if he needs the reminder -- and orders a car to pick him up.<br/>
<br/>
“Perfect.” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Nothing could have prepared Holst to see Glenn with his hair down, wearing a fitted black t-shirt, a leather jacket, faded blue skinny jeans, and lace-up boots -- <em>holding a helmet in his hand and leaning against a motorcycle.</em><br/>
<br/>
Holst’s smile widens. “You didn’t tell me you had a motorcycle, or that you would be <em>picking me up on one</em>.” </p><p>“Oops,” Glenn smirks and tosses him the helmet once he’s close enough. He gets on and grabs his own helmet. “Don’t feel pressured to. I can always meet you there if you aren’t comfortable. It’s ok.”<br/>
<br/>
The smirk now gone, Glenn looks genuinely earnest. </p><p>“I’ve always wanted to ride on one,” Holst smiles, saying a mental goodbye to hair that he spent far too long styling, as he puts on the helmet. “I want to. Thanks for asking though.” </p><p>Glenn smiles and scoots up so there’s room behind him. Taking it as his cue, Holst gets on and is immediately struck with the dilemma of where to put his hands.<br/>
<br/>
“You can hold onto the seat or my waist,” Glenn helpfully provides before stirring the engine to life. It makes a loud growl, echoing under the carport of the hotel’s entrance, and Holst nearly jumps out of his skin. </p><p>For a motorcycle that looks thinner compared to the big cruiser bikes he’d seen on the road, Glenn’s packs a furious punch. It takes one twist of the throttle for Holst to wrap his arms tightly around Glenn’s waist as they leave. </p><p>It’s an entirely different experience than just driving a car. There’s an electricity about being out in the dying lights of the evening while you hold onto your extremely attractive date, watching a city zip by in a blink. Glenn’s hair occasionally pokes him in the eye as the wind whips it around like a wild tempest, stirring a laugh from Holst. It must rouse something in Glenn, too, because he starts to tuck it inside his helmet with a free hand.<br/>
<br/>
“Shouldn’t you be driving?” Holst tries yelling over the engine. “Don’t worry about it. I love it!”<br/>
<br/>
Glenn doesn’t respond, but Holst feels him laugh before removing his hand. It hasn't phased him until now how their bodies have sunken into each other during the ride. The whole ride, it’s felt so easy, so <em> right </em>being this close. The jitters of his heart have been drowned out by the growling engine and the steady vibrations of the road. That’s what he tells himself, at least. </p><p>Glenn tells him to close his eyes as they draw closer to the restaurant. On seeing the neon lights and signs of an old, open-24/7 diner, Glenn says, “You mentioned you and your sister used to go to a diner on the weekends, so I thought I’d show you mine and Felix’s favorite spot. It’s not brunch but-”</p><p>“-Glenn, stop talking, this is perfect.”</p><p>Holst knows there’s nothing to be nervous about, not when conversation flows as smoothly as the syrup on his order of greasy french toast and bacon, or the way he delights in listening to Glenn softly hum along with the jukebox as it plays “The One” by Carly Rae Jepsen while paying for their meal. </p><p>It all feels too good -- even after Glenn drops him back off at the hotel and he’s alone once more. Somehow, Holst feels more energized to keep working, to practice his presentation and iron his clothes ahead of tomorrow and the following day. The excitement is surreal when he texts Glenn:<br/>
<br/>
<em> Had a great time tonight! Would you wanna be my tour guide on Saturday? ;) </em></p><p>As he waits for a reply, Holst spills everything to Hilda over the phone. She’s not fully convinced yet, but there’s time for that. It’s not like they’re even dating; it was just a meal together with future plans to hang out, but even Holst knows that’s not true. Not when Glenn replies a half hour later with:</p><p>
  <em> yea i had a good time too. bring me another cup of coffee &amp; you have a deal.  </em>
</p><p>So Holst replies: </p><p>
  <em> will you actually tell me your order this time? Bc that’d be super helpful :)  </em>
</p><p>And two minutes later, Glenn replies: </p><p>
  <em> mochas are pretty nice. also stop getting distracted, dummy.  </em>
</p><p>To which Holst replies with one final smiley-face before committing to work until he feels like he can actually sleep. Glenn is a distraction, but he’s not the reason Holst came here in the first place. When morning comes, it feels like maybe it’ll all be fine once he sees Glenn’s had texted him to say good luck and to text him after he’s finished. </p><p>
  <b>Holst, 11:37 a.m. </b>
</p><p><em> Well, judging by the applause and my sweaty shirt, I think I did an ok job? </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> I think?? </em></p><p>
  <b>Glenn, 11:56 a.m.</b>
</p><p>
  <em> glad to hear it. you actually worked up a sweat, didn’t think you had it in you </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Holst, 12:02 p.m. </b>
</p><p>
  <em> I told you I work out!!! :( </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Glenn, 12:05 p.m. </b>
</p><p>
  <em> sure </em>
</p><p>It goes more than ok. Before Holst has a chance to mention it during their scheduled afternoon call, Nader booms over the phone how wonderful it is to hear of such “aspiring talent being an intelligent and charismatic representative to such an esteemed firm” -- words that had been emailed to Nader from Holst’s fellow panelist, a grey-haired representative from a respected firm in Morifs. It does things to his ego, of course, but it doesn’t quite fill him with the same thrill as last night. The opportunity to come here and present has been incredible, yet there’s something in his gut that says there’s another reason for what he’s feeling.</p><p>Glenn’s texts manage to keep him semi-awake the rest of the day as well as during the following day’s closing remarks. Holst wants to sleep for the next three months in hibernation, but that’d mean someone pretty special won’t get his mocha. </p><p>So, Holst gets changed, inhales a medium red-eye, and is driven to Aegis Auto. Glenn’s there with his motorcycle, waiting with some kind of smirk as Holst walks up with his mocha. </p><p>“You look awful.”</p><p>“Is it the bags under my eyes or mismatched socks that’s so attractive?” Holst wiggles his eyebrows. </p><p>It draws that perfect laugh from Glenn, one that comes from the stomach and makes pieces of silky black hair fall in front of his face. Holst would happily make himself look like a fool a million times over if he could preserve this perfectly. </p><p>This isn’t the last time Holst thinks this, either. </p><p>Multiple times during their grand motorcycle tour of Fhirdiad, Holst finds himself wanting to save, even hoard, these memories of Glenn. It’s selfish because he knows the inevitable as the sun makes its traitorous descent behind the western horizon. This time spent together will be long over by this time tomorrow. It makes them both hesitate after spending an entire day together, bellies full of coffee and street vendor food. </p><p>Drinks, then. </p><p>They drop the motorcycle off back at the shop and call a rideshare, extending their time even further. Holst can sense the same feeling in Glenn as they nurse their first round of beer, then a second at a crowded bar. Before they can order a third round, though, Holst sees the time on his phone. It’s almost midnight, and he’s supposed to check out of the hotel by noon. What’s usually seen as plenty of time is suddenly not enough, but his worry stops the moment Glenn places his hand on Holst’s, patient eyes filled with concern.<br/>
<br/>
“Everything alright?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah! Of course,” Holst laughs, but Glenn doesn’t buy it. His hand stays securely fastened to Holst’s.<br/>
<br/>
“We can go if you need to. It’s fine, seriously.”<br/>
<br/>
<em> No, no, no, no, that is the exact opposite of what I want right now. </em></p><p>“I promise I’m fine! I’m having, like, a <em> really </em> good time with you. I just don’t...”</p><p>Holst really can’t say it, he doesn’t want to. It would become a reality the moment it’s out of his mouth, but surely Glenn doesn't-</p><p>“Want everything to end,” he fills in the blanks. A moment passes, and Glenn speaks again. There’s more visible nerves this time, his thumb brushes over Holst’s knuckles. “I, um, don’t really want it to either. I-”<br/>
<br/>
A thought springs to mind.<br/>
<br/>
“We could go back to the hotel? Order some food or get some wine brought up. I think I brought my Switch-”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” Glenn responds, now squeezing Holst’s hand. His cheeks are red, but Glenn isn’t backpedaling. </p><p>“Right,” Holst stares while a blush blooms over him, still not fully grasping Glenn’s holding his hand. “I’ll, uh, take care of that.”<br/>
<br/>
Then, it’s a blur. </p><p>One moment, they’re awkwardly standing hand-in-hand outside the bar in the chilly night air while they wait; the next, they’re sharing their first kiss in the back of their driver’s Kia Soul. Nothing about Holst’s trip to Fhirdiad has been expected or thoughtfully planned out, so why should this be any different? Like everything with Glenn, it feels <em> right </em>. It’s why Holst’s feelings aren’t hurt when they don’t order food or wine, or play a few games on his Switch. Far from it. Instead, Holst spends time with Glenn in a way that’s still intimate but different than the conversations or laughs they shared during the day. It goes on until they’re tangled up and drifting off to sleep just as the eastern horizon begins to greet the day with its soft, bluish hues. </p><p>It doesn’t seem real when Holst’s alarm buzzes just a few hours later. It’s only 8 a.m. and the sun is trying to breach the drawn curtains. Holst reminds himself of everything he has to do today, but it’s next to impossible to think further with the smaller body curled up next to him. Glenn’s breath is slow and even while he sleeps; some of his hair has fallen into his face over the course of the night, yet he still looks just as beautiful. </p><p>…</p><p>…</p><p>… Maybe Holst will take Nader’s offer for time off.</p><p>Slowly, he draws himself from bed, grabs his phone, and uses the bathroom as a quieter place to get a few things done. First, he emails Nader that he’s decided to take that vacation and extend his stay in Fhirdiad for the next few days. Next, Holst calls the front desk of the hotel and asks if he can extend his stay. He’ll have to switch rooms at checkout, but they have room available.</p><p>He returns to bed just as quietly as he left, setting an alarm to wake them in a few hours. Glenn stirs briefly to inch closer, and Holst draws him in the rest of the way. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed! </p><p>Unfortunately, some life stuff came up during the writing process, but I really do hope I did them justice. &lt;3</p><p>Please come yell at me (or Cyrus, honestly) on <a href="https://twitter.com/snale_mail">Twitter</a> about people who're barely mentioned/dead in FE3H because life is full of unexpected surprises.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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